Chapter Thirty – Cullen
CHAPTER THIRTY
CULLEN
S eeing Verity first thing in the morning makes trekking to the opposite end of the city worth it.
I watch as the door to her apartment building opens, and she emerges in a dark gray pinstripe dress with a white shirt underneath, her black loafers pounding on the brick steps down to the street.
The blue tote bag I got her is slung over her shoulder, giving me a sense of satisfaction.
She is wearing her hair up in a ponytail today, and I instantly zero in on the slope of her bare neck.
But what I focus on the most is that she isn’t wearing her headphones.
“Morning.”
I hold out the coffee cup in my hand for her, waiting to see what she’ll do.
She offers me a tentative smile, taking the paper cup.
“Morning.”
The thrill coursing through my veins at that one word has me wanting to fall to my knees and throw my hands up to the sky in victory. It’s a win unlike any I’ve had before—more satisfying than the deal I woke up to in my inbox for a building I’ve been working on selling.
This past weekend with Verity had seemed like we were on the right track, but I know how easy it is for her to fall back into her routine.
I had my doubts. I knew there was a chance that when I saw her this morning, she would go back to ignoring me and claim that the weekend was a momentary lapse in judgement.
Except, she spoke to me.
I feel like I’m back in middle school with a schoolyard crush, getting excited over the girl I like looking my way.
“What is it?” She gives the coffee a sniff, and the joy in my heart continues to beat at her furthering the conversation.
“Give it a taste.”
We fall into step side by side, another win.
Every other morning, Verity has taken action to speed walk at the pace of an Olympic champion to keep at least six feet in front of me lest anyone see us together.
There is a sense of calming rightness over us leisurely walking to her subway stop like a normal couple.
I indulge in watching her eyes widen as she takes a sip of her coffee, an unbridled smile pulling at my lips.
“Ooh, that’s good! I can’t tell what it is though.” She frowns, taking another sip. “It’s kind of nutty but sweet. Pecan, maybe?”
“Pistachio praline.”
“Seriously?” She holds the coffee cup before her and twists it around to find the name stamped onto the light blue paper cup. She pulls out her phone and snaps a picture, murmuring, “Sky Coffee House. Totally adding this to my list of places.”
“I thought you’d like it.”
“I like anything pistachio flavored.”
“I know.”
She looks up at me shyly, trying to hide her small smile behind the coffee lid.
“You have a good memory.”
“When it comes to you, Verity, I never forget even the smallest detail.”
“Cheesy as always.”
“Did you not see today’s pun?”
She glances back down to the lid and snorts.
“ Nutting else compares to a good cup of coffee . How do you even come up with these?”
“Chloe sent me a pun website.”
“Just how many people did you enlist in your grand scheme?”
“The full brigade. If the ballet thing didn’t work, I had a whole other operation scheduled.”
“Really? Like what?”
I shrug. “Guess you’ll never know.”
“Don’t tempt me into giving you the silent treatment again.”
“You wouldn’t.”
I loop my arm around her waist, laying my hand on the outside of her hip and tugging her in close to plant a brief kiss on her temple before releasing her.
“Cullen,” she whines, eyes darting around the street.
“What? I can’t kiss my girl?”
“I never said I was yours.”
“Really? So, you just let any man make you come?”
Her jaw pops open, and she lightly whacks me on the chest with the back of her hand.
“Stop. It’s eight a.m.”
I give her a wolfish grin. “Never too early for love, angel.”
“Still.” She purses her lips, keeping her gaze straight ahead as she taps down the stairs into the subway station.
We scan through the turnstiles just as the train pulls up and slip onto the closest car. Verity takes a seat, but I stay standing before her, holding onto the railing.
The train takes off, and I lean down to whisper in her ear.
“You know you’re mine, Verity.”
“No, I’m not officially your girlfriend.”
“Will you be my girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Verity.”
“You can’t just ask me that on the subway.”
“Since when?”
“Since now. It’s my rule.”
As much as I like to think I have the upper hand, that I’m the one weaving the web and bringing her closer and closer, she is ultimately the queen bee in the hive.
“You have a lot of rules,” I muse. “If I ask you somewhere else, you’ll say yes?”
She busies herself by continuing to sip on her coffee, avoiding my question.
I nudge her knee, but all she says is, “Your stop is next.”
“I’m not giving up.”
“I know.” She gives me a smile. “See you tomorrow, Cullen.”
“See you later, Verity.”
I step off the train and resist the urge to stand and wait for the doors to close, leaving the station and heading to my offices.
I thought I’d closed the distance between us, but she still seems determined to keep some space. I am almost there. I have her teetering on the edge; she just needs a final push. Now, I have to figure out what that is.
I shoot off a few texts to the group chat I have with Bridget and Chloe to see if they have any ideas.
Maybe I could ask Rafe to borrow his jet? He still owes me for going to the Kelton event with him.
I keep wracking my brain, trying to figure out what the perfect finale would be. The city buzzes around me as I get to the office building and head up the elevator to the floor our office is on.
The second I open the frosted glass door, my assistant jumps out at me.
“Mr. Ross.”
“Amy, God.” I reel back for a second before righting myself and heading toward my corner office.
“Did you get the files sent over to Langley for his signature? The buyer sent in their offer this morning, so I want to make sure we get it all squared away by noon. If we can close this deal by EOD, we’ll be golden. ”
“Mr. Ross, you have a visitor.”
I glance at my watch. “I didn’t think I had any meetings until eleven.”
“They were unannounced. I sent you a message on Groupo.”
I hadn’t checked the messaging app we use for work because I’d been so focused on Verity.
“And you let them into my office?”
“I didn’t think you would want to have them sitting in the reception area.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s Ms. Brink.”
I halt, mere inches from my office, hand millimeters from the handle. The frosted glass only covers three-quarters of the door, and I can spot the woman inside with her back to me in the seat before my desk. It sends a barrage of rocks into the pit of my stomach.
I swivel around and speed walk away from the room as fast as I can without making a noise that would alert the woman to turn around and see me through the glass walls. Amy follows me as I push into an empty office on the other side of the reception area.
“Did you call Halston?”
“Yes, he said he would be here shortly and not to do anything until he arrives.”
There are a lot of things that I can handle.
I could be thrown into most situations and adapt, making it so I come out on top. Reading people and shmoozing them is what makes me one of the most sought-after brokers in the city, but even I know when I’m out of my depth.
Darcy Brink is part of Celine’s law team and one of the worst people I’ve had the misfortune of meeting.
When Celine and I first filed for separation, she’d hired William Brink, Darcy’s father, but as the years wore on, his daughter came onto the scene and proved to be just as much of a viper.
My old lawyer had been eaten alive by them, which is why I’ve forked out so much cash hiring Halston.
I pace the empty office back and forth, biding my time.
This one belongs to Alonso, one of my three business partners here at RARE Realty.
He is currently in Barbados for his ten-year wedding anniversary, but even if that weren’t the case, he wouldn’t be here.
We all rarely come into the office. Most of our work happens in the field, on property sites or at client’s homes, but because of my new routine with Verity, I’ve been stopping by here more often—a fact Brink must have learned.
I just have to pray that that is the only thing she learned.
“Mr. Hughes is here.” Amy nods to where the front door of our office opens, revealing the man of the hour.
“Thank God.”
I rush from Alonso’s office to meet with him in the reception area, keeping my voice low as I approach him.
“Darcy’s here.”
“I heard.” Halston adjusts his cufflinks, seeming unbothered.
“Do you know why?”
“They’re probably hoping to bypass me by going directly to you. Weakest link and all.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You are the one who made the blunder that landed us here in the first place.”
“I was twenty-five and just wanted to be rid of her.”
“Even a fourteen-year-old would’ve known that you signed a shit deal. They’re hoping to exploit that softness once again; they just know they can’t do that if I’m involved.”
“I won’t give in again, Hughes. I want my life back, completely.”
“Then we need her—”
“I thought I heard some noise.” Darcy rests against the glass doorframe to my office. “I see you called in the guard dog.”
Halston steps between us. “Care to explain why you showed up at my client’s office, Ms. Brink?”
“I had a message to pass on, Mr. Hughes.”
“Didn’t your daddy tell you that you can’t communicate with him directly?”
Darcy’s brow twitches. Every word Halston utters seems to dig under her skin. I’d heard once they attended the same law school and wondered if there was more to their animosity than working competing cases.
“My client has a request of Mr. Ross.”
“Really? And what are her demands this time? Does she want him to agree not to step over Seventy-first Street and remain only on the Upper East Side?”
“We were going to say Fifty-seventh Street, but we’re happy to give him less.”
“Hilarious.”
“Generous is the word you’re looking for. Might I remind you that we allowed Mr. Ross to come back for business meetings over the years.”
“And might I remind you that the contract he signed said he wouldn’t reside in the city for ten years, not that he wouldn’t visit.
” Halston crosses his arms. “Now, cut the crap, Brink. Your client was supposed to sign the revised documents three weeks ago. You’re well aware she’s in violation of the prior signed decree. ”
“If you want her to sign them, you need to hear me out.”
“Fine, what does she want?”
“She wants to talk with Mr. Ross.” Her eyes slide to me. “Alone.”